(Author’s note: I will likely delete this post within a week)
When I started this blog, my intent was to tell my story from beginning to end. I never wanted to clutter my site with blogging awards or chain mail thingies, nor wanted my blog to be a place where I vented about the affair aftermath on a daily basis.
But today is a difficult day, for many reasons. And I am going to break my storytelling protocol to provide a rare glimpse of actual present day angst.
Today is a meaningful day. I went to the hospital for yet another follow up, and was told that I do not have cancer. This underlying medical issue developed right before my relationship with CEO ended. So walking back into that hospital, sitting in the same waiting room and wearing the same white baffle knit robe conjured up many emotions today.
I sat in the very same changing room where I took a photo and sent it to him. He quickly replied, “Oh my God, I just lost my breathe. Are you ok? Praying for you (and I’m not religious). Let me know the outcome once you know, ok?”
The doctors ran multiple tests, only for the radiologist to finally say it’s benign. But I had several hours until that occurred and I sat there thinking, “What if? What if I am diagnosed with cancer. Would I then reach out to CEO? Would I then reach out and have one more conversation to put every last swirling question and emotion to bed? Would it keep my head faced forward, for life, and keep my heart only thinking of my family? Knowing just how precious every second with them would be? Would getting a diagnosis of cancer be the magic pill to binding my heart completely to the ones I truly love? To the ones who show what true love is?”
Those thoughts as well as many others concerning the special meaning of today is something I struggled with immensely. I wanted to reach out to him and my brain was firing all it’s synapses to do so. But it was hard, brutally hard friends. For I have a years work of no contact under my belt and just as much pride and ego wrapped up in that accomplishment. However, somewhere deep inside my heart, I yearned for him to know. That I still cared—even after everything that happened–I still did and I still remembered. And that I didn’t forget.
The significance of today was not lost on me. I wished that I could have reached out. To say a lot of things that have been on my mind for months. To share that he was still in my thoughts, even after all this time. Truly.
So I did what any woman trying to forge the next chapter in rebuilding her marriage would do….I ran home to my husband and cried about him yet again. I shared my struggles and pain over how conflicted I was. I shared aspects of our story, yet again, with my husband. And then we went out for dinner and a glass of wine trying to reconnect/rebuild our marriage from this point onward. Brutal honesty–it’s not an easy thing to do my friends.
Because even if every single fiber of my heart wanted to reach out to him–it wants, even more so, my family and children’s happiness above all else. And it should be that way, rightfully so. That was always the crux of my parting thoughts to him.
So all I can do is send love and friendship from afar, wishing him continued success in all of his endeavors. And hope–so so sooo much hope for a transformative year in his marriage as well.
Another year stronger.
Another year of figuring this all out.
Fly on, my dear friend.